Cursed
by Terry6
Summary: Ezra has been turned into a werewolf and fears that he will kill his friends and Vin, who he has fallen in love with. ---SLASH---
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
  
"Chaucer, I do believe that Mister Larabee has become a glutton in making my life a living hell." Ezra yawned as he nudged his horse out of the livery.  
  
Three o'clock in the morning was when Ezra usually went to bed. He'd play a few games of cards and, fairly of course, clean some country bumpkin out of their money and help Inez close the saloon for the night, though the young woman constantly said he didn't have to. The saloon might belong to his mother, but since he was a Standish and this was The Standish Tavern, he still felt a sense of responsibility. He bought the damn thing in the first place.  
  
He would then crawl into bed with Vin, his lover of approximately two years now. Of course, Vin was more of a fucker than a lover, because they both agreed that love had nothing to do with their relationship. They were just screw buddies. Nothing more. As soon as the variation of women was plentiful again (unless, of course, they all got to know Buck) they would carry on with their lives. Or that's what Vin told him.  
  
The truth was that Ezra had been smitten with Vin since the day he saw him and the other three members of the Seven. With his long golden brown hair and that hat that cast a mysterious shadow over his stunning icy blue eyes, and that honey dipped Texas drawl. Oh! How many times his pants filled with just the thought of Vin, Ezra didn't know, except that it happened a lot. But he always kept it hidden to himself until that fiasco with Charlotte Richmond ended. Vin, drunk and as depressed as a kicked dog, staggered into Ezra's room in the middle of the night and had his "wicked way" with him. The next morning Vin told him that this was just a buddy fuck and had nothing to do with love and that it wouldn't last forever. It shocked Ezra at first but decided that it was best for both of them. Even the rest of the Seven were fine by their rather unorthodox pairing.  
  
"Man's got have something when women are slim pickins." Buck had said. Good old predictable, raunchy Buck.  
  
In the beginning things were fine between them. They were NOT in love. But that was in the beginning, not now. Soon Ezra grew fond of the way Vin smelled of a musky day after a rainstorm with a hint of peppermint and whiskey, or the way his hair cast a reddish gold shine in the sun and he loved when Vin played his harmonica so beautifully. Damn it all to hell, he had fallen in love with the handsome tracker! For over a year now he knew this, but, like before, kept it to himself. Having Vin fuck him and vice versa was close enough to love, so he put on his poker face and continued to be a miserable bastard with a sore ass.  
  
It was not ten minutes later when Ezra was just about to doze off that Chris was weakly knocking on his door and coughing. "Ezra, wake up, we need you for patrol tonight."  
  
"Mistuh Larabee, has thuh flu spread tuh your brain?" Ezra mumbled, his accent thick with exhaustion. The town had caught the flu recently, and Chris, Josiah, JD and Vin had already caught it.  
  
"No, but Buck's got it now too." Chris sniffled, his voice nasally but still fierce.  
  
"And I assume that Mister Jackson is unavailable for the time being?" Ezra asked, placing a light kiss on Vin's shoulder as the tracker started to cough hoarsely. He slowly got out of bed and pulled his pants up, cursing silently. God, he was so tired.  
  
"You know that Nathan's at the clinic treating people. He's getting no more sleep than you." Chris growled, which resulted in a nasty hacking cough. "I don't see how you haven't managed to catch it."  
  
Ezra opened the door, dressed in his infamous red jacket and cuffs. "Maybe if you and our compatriots wouldn't parade out in the streets with the plague, ya'll wouldn't be in this predicament." He quirked an eyebrow at Chris' appearance. Red eyes and nose, a three day beard growing and a light blue blanket wrapped around his shivering shoulders. Ezra couldn't help but smirk.  
  
"Why don't you just get your ass down to the livery before I beat your ass." Chris snarled.  
  
So there he was, out in the cold night, shivering in his small red coat as he inspected the wide perimeter surrounding the small town. "Go ged your ass downd do da livery, Edra." Ezra grumbled as he mimicked Chris' congested voice. "They do not pay me enough for this, I swear. How many times do I have to repeat myself? A gentleman does not debase himself by engaging in menial labor! And furthermore, I-"  
  
Ezra stopped Chaucer in his tracks as he heard a strange sound. It sounded like a coyote, but more fiercer. Wilder. He also heard erratic footsteps, coming closer and then farther away from him. All the while the strange growling continued, concluding that this was defiantly no coyote, but something else. Something bigger. But it was still too dark and the cold wind stung at Ezra's eyes, so he could barely see a thing.  
  
"Hello?" Ezra yelled out into clearing. The growling grew louder and the footsteps grew quicker. Ezra's breathing grew ragged as he activated his derringer out, fear actually sweeping through his body. "Here p-puppy puppy puppy. Come to Uncle Ez-RAAAAARGH!" a huge figure lunged from out of the darkness, hurling itself onto Ezra and knocking him off of Chaucer. What it was, Ezra couldn't tell. The air was brutally forced out of his lungs as he crashed to the ground, but he had no time to gasp as the animal's powerful fangs bit into his arm hard. With a cry of anguish, Ezra kicked the animal in the belly and sent him flying, immediately firing every shot he had in his little gun at the beast's still body.  
  
"Fucking coyote. Messed up my best jacket." Ezra hissed in pain as he saw his jacket grow a darker red with his blood. Cursing under his breath, Ezra mounted Chaucer and headed off for home, unaware of the creature slowly changing into something else......  
  
TBC........ 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Ezra woke up with a horrible headache. He groaned weakly and covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing them until they came into focus.  
  
"What's wrong with me?" he mumbled as he raked his fingers through his hair. The last thing he remembered was wrapping his wound neatly in clean linen before crashing next to Vin in the bed. Odd, he didn't even hear Vin wake up, as it became accustomed for him to get up as soon as the tracker did.  
  
No matter though. Ezra could tell that it was around mid afternoon and Inez was still serving lunch. And, even odder for Ezra, he was hungrier than he had ever been in his life.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The rest of the Seven were surprised to see Ezra finally come downstairs at two o'clock in the afternoon not looking as crisp as he usually was. He was wearing the same outfit that he was wearing yesterday, all wrinkled and loose with the cuffs and the red jacket unbuttoned and only one of his shirt tails tucked in. His usual expensive hat had been abandoned and it looked like he hadn't even bothered to brush his hair or shave. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." he croaked out as he stumbled weakly to his usual chair. "I hope you don't mind my tardiness from this morning."  
  
"Ezra, are you feeling all right?" Nathan asked as he covered Buck, who was the sickest member of the group at the moment, with an extra blanket as he coughed feebly. JD and Josiah looked like they were on the mend while Vin and Chris were still sniffling and coughing, but getting better.  
  
"I am quite all right Mister Jackson, thank y-," he stopped mid-word as Nathan put his large hand across his forehead. 'Is the man deaf? I said I was fine.'  
  
Nathan's dark brown eyes squinted with concern. "Ezra, you're clammy and burning up. I think you should come down to the clinic with me and take some medicine."  
  
"Oh, Dear Lord," Buck groaned, clutching his mouth and gagging. "Please don't mention that shit around me, Nate! I can hardly stand the smell of yall's coffee as it is."  
  
Nathan rolled his eyes at the lady killer. "Oh, come on. You were the one begging me for a shot a whiskey not thirty minutes ago."  
  
"Whiskey! Oh-oh....." Buck swallowed repeatedly, but no one could deny the sounds of his stomach churning at the thought.  
  
Ezra smiled and raised his hand to get the healer's attention. "I'm fine, Mister Jackson, just a little famished. Nothing that a little nourishment won't cure."  
  
"Well, you don't look fine. I think you should just come over-"  
  
"I SAID I'M FINE, GOD DAMN IT!" Ezra snarled as he slammed his hand onto the table. And as quick as his anger flared it was gone, leaving Ezra surprised and embarrassed by his outburst. Five pairs of stunned eyes were staring at him, while Buck was in his own little world trying to keep from vomiting on the table. "I. I'm sorry Mister Jackson. I don't know why I said that. I assure you I'm fine, but I think you should escort Mister Wilmington out of here before he explodes."  
  
Nathan's gaze flashed to Buck, who was wilting in his chair and groaning in pain. "Okay Buck, calm down, let's go to the clinic and give you some more medicine."  
  
"Oh God!" Buck moaned, clutching his mouth desperately as he sprinted out of the tavern, where a sound of retching and ladies screaming met their ears. Nathan sighed and followed him.  
  
"Ez, are you all right? What was that all about?" Vin asked, concern in his eyes.  
  
Ezra stared at Vin, an angry smirk on his face and his voice low and menacing. "Mister Tanner, the reason for my outburst was because Mister Jackson would not stop badgering me. Would you like to be next?"  
  
Vin thought he was seeing things, but for a split second he thought he saw Ezra's forest green eyes flash an ugly blood red before returning to their usual color. 'Best to ignore it', he though. "Okay Ez, I'm sorry."  
  
The gambler smoothed out his unruly hair and cleared his throat. "No harm done." It wasn't long after that Inez walked up carrying her notepad and wearing a friendly smile. After she scribbled down the other four's lunch, she turned to Ezra. "Would it trouble you if I ordered off the breakfast menu?" he asked kindly.  
  
"No trouble at all, Señor Standish." said Inez.  
  
"Great. In that case I'll have a short-stack with blueberries, butter and syrup, a side of bacon, two orders of hash browns, sausages, eggs and toast with marmalade."  
  
Everyone, including Inez and a couple of people who were sitting nearby, stared at the con man. Ezra Standish was known for eating small light meals, like a couple of slices of toast or some fruit, and he had just ordered a feast big enough to feed three people.  
  
"An-anything to drink?" Inez mumbled.  
  
"I would love a ice cold jug of milk, if you don't mind."  
  
Half an hour later Ezra was shoveling the food into his mouth, only taking a few seconds to take a breath in between bites. Gone were the delicate table manners of the young southern gentleman, who was actually using his hands to eat his pancakes. Five pairs of eyes watched (Nathan had returned by then) in awe and disgust as Ezra inhaled his food, and they all winced whenever Ezra made an animalistic grunt as he chugged his milk with his mouth full of food.  
  
"Ez?" Vin asked quietly. Ezra didn't hear him. "Ez?"  
  
Everyone at the table jumped as Ezra snarled and slapped his hands against the table, guarding his prey. "What. is it. Mister Tanner?" he hissed.  
  
'My God. Vin thought. His eyes are red'. Vin's thoughts were interrupted by Larabee. "What the hell is the matter with you Standish? You're actin' like a jackass and you're eating like a pig. That ain't like you and you know it!"  
  
"What I do and how I act is my problem, Mister Larabee, not yours." he rose up from his chair and turned his heel. "Good day, gentlemen."  
  
Nathan stood up and walked towards the fuming gambler. "Ezra, you look really bad. I really think-," he was cut off short as Ezra turned toward him sharply and backhanded him hard across the face, sending him to the ground.  
  
"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, YOU FUCKING NIGGER!!!!" Ezra roared, his usual tenor voice changing to a booming shriek and his eyes glowing an intense red. A gasp escaped his lips and he fell to the ground, clutching his chest and breathing raggedly. Now green eyes shone with tears as he stared at Nathan, who's face was a mixture of shock, pain and rage. "N. Nathan. I didn't-.I didn't mean it. Believe me. I don't know where that came from."  
  
"Oh I know where it came from." Nathan growled. "A fucking racist. You Southerners are all fucking alike! I always knew that you joining us was a mistake."  
  
Before Nathan could utter another word, a man came barging into the saloon, winded and desperate. "Wh-Which one of you is Nathan Jackson?" he panted.  
  
Nathan cast Ezra another steely glare before rising to his feet. "I am. What's wrong?"  
  
The man took off his hat to reveal a bald head glimmering with sweat. "I-I was ridin' into town for the night, when I saw this body near the border. He's alive but he's been shot pretty badly."  
  
"Lead me to him." Nathan demanded and followed suit. The rest of the team followed, with Chris glaring and Josiah frowning at Ezra, who was still on the floor. JD took a step away from Ezra as he walked out of the saloon. Vin was the last to leave. He just stared at Ezra, shook his head and left. That, to Ezra, was the most painful.  
  
Ezra pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arm around his middle. 'What's wrong with me'? After a couple of seconds holding back tears he, too, left to see the injured man.  
  
Nathan was carrying the man in his large arms and making his way to the clinic. The man was as naked as the day he was born and there were several bullet holes punched into his body. He was fairly young, maybe early twenties, with blazing red hair, freckles and a long nose. Ezra watched as the man was carried, but for a split second he saw something. The man opened his eyes and stared at Ezra. They were as red as blood. The man gave a smirk towards Ezra before closing his eyes again.  
  
Ezra gave a step back, startled by the man's action. It was then that he noticed that he was very itchy.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The itching grew worse. Ezra scratched at his skin over and over until he was breaking skin and drawing blood. He was riding Chaucer out into the desert, trying to think of what had happened today as the sun had just sank below the mountains. His temper had become superior to a madman's, his appetite had increased tenfold and now the constant itching. As he was thinking he saw a little black speck on his sleeve and as he moved to touch it, it hopped away.  
  
"Damn it! Fleas. Could this day get any worse?" Ezra sighed. He knew he spoke too soon when a dull ache seemed to grow from the pit of his belly.  
  
"Ah" he hissed, clutching his middle. "That damn breakfast. Ate too much for my own good." But every time he took a breath, the pain grew more sharper and began to burn. Ezra jerked his head toward the sky with a shuddering gasp as the vision of the full moon blurred before his very eyes. "Oh, God. Chaucer-" his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell off of the saddle. He paid no heed to the fall, he was in terrible pain.  
  
Ezra finally let out a horrible cry of pain, but the agony grew more fierce and had now spread all over his body. The gut-wrenching feeling of a million knives seemed to push through his skin as his head and limbs felt as if they were being ripped away from his torso.  
  
Ezra could hear the faint sound of Chaucer whinnying in panic and galloping off, but mostly all he did was scream. Then his own screams started to change. The sound morphed from a man crying out in pain into the wild screeching of a mountain lion.  
  
Fear and excruciating pain filled his head until he felt the release of falling into a black abyss. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Psst!... Hey!"  
  
*Poke* *Poke* *Poke*  
  
"Mmmph..."  
  
"Hey, mister, ya'll all right?"  
  
*Poke* *Poke* *Poke*  
  
"Stop pokin' me..."  
  
"Mister, what happened? Where's yer clothes?"  
  
"Where's my clothes? Good Lord!" Ezra bolted into a sitting position and immediately regretted it, letting out a long groan and clutching his aching head. Lord, his whole body felt like he'd run a ten mile race. As the pain subsided, he looked up to see two little boys, probably no more than seven, each wearing an old pair of overalls over their bare chests and tattered straw hats over their messy black hair. The tallest of the boys poked him with a stick.  
  
"Ow! Quit poking me! I am awake, you know."  
  
"Where's yer clothes?"  
  
"The hell if I know." The two boys let out twin gasps and their eyes bulged. "Okay, the heck if I know. Must have been robbed during my episode last night-"  
  
"Did you sthee the thing that killed our theep?" the other boy lisped.  
  
Ezra stopped talking and looked at the smallest one, who had a gaping hole where his front teeth should have been. "What sheep?"  
  
"That one."  
  
Ezra turned around and gasped as the sight of a horribly disemboweled sheep came into view. It looked as if it's innards had been ripped out with a knife and, for some strange reason, been taken away. The sheep's eyes were opened wide as was it's mouth, tongue hanging out across the sand. Ezra cringed when he saw a fly land on the unseeing eyeball and then crawled down and into a blood-soaked nostril.  
  
"Ugh! Poor creature..." he looked back at the boys, who looked at him warily. "No my fine young gentlemen, I think I would have remembered if I had taken the liberty to witness the sacrifice of a helpless lamb."  
  
"Then why'th ya gotsth blood on ya?" the little one asked, pointing at Ezra.  
  
Ezra looked down and was appalled to discover his naked chest covered in dried blood. He trailed his hand up the sticky path and also found his mouth coated with it too.  
  
This had to be one of the most humiliating situations he had ever been in. Buck-naked (no pun intended towards Mr. Wilmington) in the middle of the desert with no recollection of the last nights activities, covered in sheep blood and being discovered by two innocent little boys. "Not so innocent now, though," he thought. "I'm sure Mother would be proud of her so-called darlin' baby boy."  
  
Ezra ran a bloody hand through his hair and tried to concentrate on figuring out what had exactly happened the night before, but the pounding in his head made it difficult. "Uh, I'm sorry children. I do not seem to recall... anything from the previous night... Did yall see me come here last night?"  
  
The littlest of the two started to chew on his fingernail nervously as his eyes darted towards his older brother. "Naw, but we thaw a monsther."  
  
"Monster?"  
  
"Yeah. It wath huge, probably 'bout eleventy feet tall."  
  
The older boy whacked his brother's head and knocked off his straw hat. "No it wasn't! Eleventy's not even a word. Go on and get Pa, and tell him to bring some clothes fer this here feller." As the little one left with his hat and his hand and a pout on his face, the eldest turned back to Standish. "We really couldn't see him that well, since our cabin's way over there, but we sure as heck heard it. It sounded real nasty too, like a cougar of a coyote only a whole lot meaner. And it was pretty big from where I could see it, I dunno. I'm bettin' it was at least seven or eight feet. Me 'n Tate were so scared we hid in the storage bin. Soon as the sun came out we saw you and thought you was hurt. Glad ya ain't."  
  
Ezra stared at him for a good measure and let of a soft chuckle. "Oh, my my. The imagination of a young child is simply marvelous."  
  
The boy stopped smiling and scowled at the gambler on the sand. "Fine, I don' care if ya don' believe me. We'll give ya some clothes and then you can jez git. Oh, and would ya please cross yer legs? I don' really like seein' yer Yankee Doodle."  
  
------------------------------  
  
Chris entered the Standish Tavern for a nice quiet lunch and a maybe a good bottle of whisky, but of course, with the company he kept, "quiet" was never an option. Sighing in frustration, he just listened to his men chatter while he picked at his fried chicken.  
  
"Okay, okay. This one's real good, Josiah. You'll like it, it's from the Bible. What did Noah say when he met the pirate captain?"  
  
Josiah rubbed his temple and faked a smile. "I don't know JD, what did Noah say?"  
  
Barely containing his laughter, he growled (in his best pirate impersonation), "Ark, matey! HA ha ha ha! Ya get it? Noah built the Ark and he says 'Ark, matey!' instead of 'argh!',... Ya get it?"  
  
"Wow, JD. You must have a million of those up yer sleeve." Josiah dryly commented.  
  
JD's smile faded and he scoffed at the preacher, "Oh, come on now, that was funny! Wasn't that funny Vin?"  
  
Vin was staring out the window with a faraway look on his face and jumped when he heard his named called. "Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah it was."  
  
"Something on yer mind, Brother Vin?"  
  
"No, not really. Jez wonderin' where Ezra went off too. Haven't seen him since last evening'."  
  
Nathan snorted in his coffee. "Like he gives a damn about us anyway. Probably off stealin' money from an old lady or, I dunno, polishing his whip or something'."  
  
Buck, wearing a pair of jeans over his long johns and cuddling a yellow blanket around his shoulders, slapped a comforting hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Aw, don' be mad at Ez, Nate. Ya probably just caught him at a bad tii-I-I-I-ime..." Buck's speech ended in a long, sickly belch and he covered his mouth as his face drained of all color. After a moment of frantic swallowing, he relaxed. "I'm okay."  
  
Nathan slammed down his now empty mug. "Dammit Buck, why the hell are ya throwin' up? Yer fever's down and yer on the mend, why are ya throwin' up?"  
  
"Aw, the hell if I know Nathan, I-... What the crap?" Buck's attention was at the door, and when the others turned to see what he was gawking at, they all had to suppress a sudden burst of giggles.  
  
Ezra Standish, one of the most well groomed, well educated and well dressed men in town, was standing awkwardly in the doorway wearing a pair of moth-eaten jeans, a tattered white long-sleeved shirt that appeared to have numerous food stains on it, a pair of worn out boots with his toes sticking out of the holes and an old straw hat on top of frazzled brown hair. He looked just like a country bumpkin who lived in a shack down by the river.  
  
"Mornin' Brother Ezra." Josiah smiled. "Looking sharp."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Ezra snarled.  
  
"Good, cuz we don't wanna hear about it." Nathan snarled back, refusing to make eye contact with the conman.  
  
Ezra's embarrassment and anger left when Nathan snapped at him, replaced by guilt over what happened yesterday afternoon. "M-Mr. Jackson?" When the healer didn't answer, he pulled off his hat in respect and bowed his head. "Nathan... I just want to say how... tr-truly sorry I am for what happened yesterday. I don't even know why I said it since I only think of you with high regards as a doctor, a man and hopefully a very dear friend. I know that doesn't excuse me for what I said, but... I just want you to know that I am ashamed and I beg your forgiveness."  
  
Nathan's hard visage softened as he watched the conman apologize with his eyes to the ground, apparently humiliated by what he had done. With a deep sigh, he said, "Dammit Ez, ya don't make it easy bein' yer friend..."  
  
"I know, I'm so-"  
  
"But I guess it wouldn't kill me to forgive you... THIS time."  
  
The southerner drew his head up sharply to see Nathan smiling at him, reluctantly though. "Thank you Mister Jackson. I swear I'll make it up to you somehow. In fact, Mr. Wilmington, aren't you allergic to coconut?"  
  
Nathan was perplexed. "What?! What does that have to do with me?" He didn't even notice Buck sheepishly looking down and blushing.  
  
"Because, Mister Jackson-," Ezra paused and sniffed the air, almost like an animal. "-I detect some of Miss Georgette's fine coconut cream pie an Mr. Wilmington's apparel."  
  
Nathan fumed and glared at Buck. "Dammit Buck! You've been eating coconut cream pie this whole time when you know that stuff makes you sick?!"  
  
Buck looked up with a small smile. "W-well you know how I can't ever turn down a fine lady's home cookin'."  
  
"Yeah, it shows." JD muttered. This earned him an amused chuckle from Josiah and Chris. Now that was funny.  
  
"Jesus Christ Buck, you're lucky I don't just castrate you right now and end all of our misery. Thanks Ezra, least some of us our thinking' today." Though it was really weird that Ezra figured out the problem by just smelling Buck. It was like he turned into some sort of smell hound.  
  
"No problem, Mister- GOD DAMMIT!" Ezra began to scratch fiercely in his hair, whining, "Nathan! Can you give me something for these god damn fleas. They're driving me insane!"  
  
Nathan stared at con man. Fleas? "Sure Ezra, head on up to the clinic and wait for me while I sort things out with this here horny toad. Oh, and be quiet, would ya? I got a real sick patient and he's probably sleepin'."  
  
"Will do." Ezra stood up and walked towards the livery.  
  
"Ezra, don't ya want any lunch?" Vin asked. He had been anticipating for Ezra to come and now he was leaving again. He really needed to talk him.  
  
"No thank. I ate such a enormous dinner last night. I couldn't eat another bite." That was true. Since he woke up in the desert it felt like his stomach would explode. Of course he had no idea what he had eaten. Without thinking about it anymore, he exited the saloon, scratching his arms, neck, chest and other parts of his anatomy that ladies should never see scratched in public.  
  
"About that patient Nathan. He gonna make it?"  
  
Nathan sighed. "He's in bad shape. I'm surprised he's lasted this long."  
  
Vin watched Ezra through the window and sighed. Why couldn't he just come out and tell the gambler that he was in love with him?  
  
TBC............ 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ezra walked up to the door of Nathan's clinic, scratching at his ear, and hesitated turning the knob. Should he enter? They was a dying, or dead by now, man on the other side of the door, and Ezra was never comfortable around the sick or the demised, a habit he had inherited by his mother. What if he were to disturb the man's peaceful sleep, putting him in a world of hurt?

A sudden crash from inside of the clinic broke Ezra from his thoughts, and he cursed that his guns were somewhere out in the desert. How dare someone rob from his friend's clinic, especially when their was a gravely wounded man lying in there. Opening the door, he was shocked to discover it was the red-headed man from yesterday, looking, not gravely ill, but relatively healthy. He had put on what, apparently, was one of Nathan's trousers and a shirt that was half-way on his body, and he was cursing after having broke one of the healer's medicine bottles.

"What is going on here?" Ezra demanded, causing the man to jerk in surprise.

Looking closely at him, he couldn't have been older than JD, if younger , and his eyes weren't the eerie color of red as they were yesterday, but rather a brilliant shade of baby blue. "Jeez, Mister! Ya scared the shit out of me!"

Ezra rolled his eyes. He did not like the use of foul language, even though he was using it a lot recently without any warning. "I apologize, son, but I must ask why you have suddenly made such a wonderful improvement in health in order to steal Mr. Jackson's clothes."

"Oh, well, I'm a… I'm kind of a fast healer." He opened up his shirt to show that the mortal bullet wounds that Ezra saw yesterday were now beginning to scar. Ezra was amazed. Although he valued Nathan's skills in patching up bullet holes, it usually took weeks before any of his own wounds looked like the boy's. "And as for the clothes… Well, I couldn't just walk out of the clinic in my birthday suit. My names Kirk by the way."

"Ezra Standish, nice to meet you," he said, hiding his shock over the scars. "however, I insist you ask before GAAH!" Ezra violently started scratching the back of his head. "Damn it! How could I get fleas in the first place!" Scratching for at least two minutes all over his head, he looked up to see the bay staring at him. "Do I amuse you?"

Kirk's face had gone completely white, and his mouth was open in shock. "I smell myself… All over you."

Ezra quirked an eyebrow at him. "You smell yourself on me. My dear boy, the only time I saw you was yesterday afternoon and I don't quite recall you on me at all."

Kirk shook his head slowly. "I swear I smell myself on you. It's very faint, probably a couple of days old, but I swear I smell you. Once I get past the smell of whisky, sweat, and-" he inhaled loudly, before proceeding "sheep meat, I smell me."

Ezra tilted his head ever so, a suspicious gleam in his cool green eyes. "How did you- HEY!" Kirk had raced over to his side and gripped his arm, and the rage that he felt yesterday came back as he pushed the boy to the floor. "Get your filthy hands off me, you little whelp!" The anger fled him as the boy stared at him crumpled on the ground in shock. "I apologize. These last couple of days have been-"

Kirk bowed his head in shame, his voice breaking as he spoke "I know… I've been there myself. The first week is always the worst… Uncontrollable rage, the hunger you can't seem to stop, the fleas… And when you change, the pain is so great and you lose control of everything… Letting it take control… And waking up finding that you did… Horrible, unspeakable things. And you learn that you can't stop the monster… Nothing can."

Ezra was intrigued. All of the things that Kirk said made him reflect over yesterday, how no matter how much he ate he couldn't quell his hunger, and the horrible things he said to Nathan, and the sudden stinging bites of fleas. And he remembered the agony he suffered last night and the how he was drenched in sheep blood the morning after with no recollection of what happened. Ezra stared at Kirk in fear. Was he sick with some disease or was he going mad? "How do you know? What does it all mean?"

Kirk looked up at him. "Werewolves, Mister Standish… We're werewolves."

Ezra's eyes turned cold. "Funny, sir. Very funny. Now, since you are alright I would suggest you leave before Nathan catches you stealing from his wardrobe."

"I'm telling the truth!" Kirk said indignantly. "I can smell the demon's stench all over! Not to mention spit and all those other things I smell when I transform myself."

Ezra smile sarcastically. "So does that mean that you yourself transformed last night when I supposedly did?"

"No." Kirk said innocently. "I was healing. When a werewolf is hurt in a way that would kill a normal man, they skip their transformation in order to heal from their wounds. In fact, the only things that can truly hurt a werewolf are silver and wolfsbane. Other than that we're practically immortal. Heck, even I'm sixty-three years old!"

Ezra had had enough. "Alright, I suggest you leave, sir, before I put you away in a hospital." This boy is insane, he thought.

"Fine. I'll leave then." Kirk hiked up his too large pants and made his way to the door, but before he opened it he turned back. "I also smell that long-haired guy on you. The one in the buckskins." Ezra stiffened and his eyes went wide with fury. "Are you and him-"

"Leave now!" Ezra barked, not knowing that his eyes, once again, turned a blazing red.

"Look, just a warning, werewolves always kill the ones they love. Nothing will ever stop that. Believe me, I know." Kirk sadly closed the door, leaving a seething Ezra in his wake.

"That bastard. That vile, son-of-a-bitch-bastard! I'll rip his fucking throat out!" Ezra roared, and gasped in surprise and fear. Where did that come from? Even when he was at his peak with strangers he never wanted to hurt them. In fact, when being accused of cheating at poker, he always warned the accuser to calm down unless he wanted to be shot. But he desperately wanted to kill that boy. No, not him. Something inside him. Something alien in his body, unknown to him his whole life, whose lust for blood would not stop until it was fully gorged, and then some.

Yes, there was a monster inside Ezra's soul, and he was just now becoming aware of it.

Nathan came in suddenly, breaking Ezra from his dark thoughts. "Did-did I just see-? But he was dying, I was sure of it! Ezra, did that kid say anything to you?"

Ezra turned to him and, with his poker face firmly intact, said, "Just that he got better, thanks to you. Also, I don't think I'll be needing any medicine after all, thank you." And with that he walked out the door, faintly hearing Nathan remark that the boy's clothes looked vaguely familiar.


End file.
